


An Audience of One

by mistr3ssquickly



Series: Kalluzeb 30 Lemons [2]
Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Community: 30_lemons, M/M, Porn with Feelings, but no really it's just porn, jesus why is that a tag that exists
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-20
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-28 10:20:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30138069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistr3ssquickly/pseuds/mistr3ssquickly
Summary: Zeb gives Kallus something to keep him company on a mission.
Relationships: Alexsandr Kallus/Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios
Series: Kalluzeb 30 Lemons [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2222091
Comments: 5
Kudos: 60





	An Audience of One

Rebel Command, such as it is, keeps Kallus on a short leash, at first, sending him out only when the rest of Syndulla's squadron can be there to keep an eye on him, Hera pulled aside and questioned after each run. Her patience with Command's distrust erodes a little more each time it happens, despite Kallus' repeated reassurance that he doesn't mind, her face pulling into a strikingly severe glare every time he comments that he would do the same, if he were in charge.

"It isn't right, after all you've done for us," Hera grouses, one of her hands stroking the top of Chopper's chassis as if he were a pet, not a 'droid, her other hand resting on her belly, fingers drumming in time to her ire. "After _you_ were there for us at the liberation of Lothal and _they_ left us to fend for ourselves —"

She cuts herself off with a short, harsh sigh and a shake of her head, Chopper lending his support in the form of an offer to loosen the bolts on the current Command's bunks, sagging in disappointment when Hera and Kallus tell him _no,_ almost in unison.

"It's the correct thing to do," Kallus says. "And beside that, I've grown rather fond of serving under your command. I'd be a fool to long for a change in that arrangement."

Hera's glare eases into a tired, weary smile, at that, the sigh she gusts as heavy as the world. "Well, thank you for that," she says, "but I won't be commanding anything for some time after I deliver, and I hate that you'll be grounded then, if they don't get over this paranoia." She sighs, rubbing her hand over her belly. "It's an insult, and I don't take kindly to insults raised against my family."

 _Family._ Kallus clears his throat, running his fingertips across Chopper's chassis as well, just to have something to do with his hand. "Thank you," he says. "Whatever happens, I'm sure we'll all be just fine."

He's right about that, at least from a certain point of view, orders coming down from Command not two months later for him to join an infiltration and espionage initiative, separate from Hera and Chopper and Zeb and Sabine, General Dodonna clapping him on the shoulder when Kallus reports to accept his orders, the general handing him his old Imperial uniform as he does, and that probably means something, but Kallus knows better than to read too much into human behavior, instead taking his uniform back to his assigned bunk and shoving it into his bag, neatly arranging the rest of his essentials atop it.

He's nearly finished packing when he hears a knock at his door, Zeb standing in the corridor with his ears curled back against his skull, his face sunk into something of a frown, and that's never a good sign, Kallus steeling himself for bad news as he steps back and invites Zeb in.

"What is it?" he says, once Zeb's come in and shut the door behind him.

One of Zeb's ears lifts. Progress. "What's what?"

Kallus drops the spare set of gloves in his hands into the top of his bag and crosses his arms over his chest. "From your body language, I'd assumed this isn't a social call," he says, "though the fact that you've not come right out with it is reassuring that you've not come with _bad_ news, at least. Perhaps."

Zeb chuckles, the sound low and throaty, his ears equalizing in height, not lifted but not pressed back flat anymore, either, some of the hunch pulling his shoulders forward relaxing by a degree, at least. "Read all that off'a me just knocking at your door, didja."

"You're hardly subtle," Kallus tells him.

"Or you're just good at getting a read on me," Zeb says. He offers Kallus a lopsided grin, flashing one of his fangs in the process. "Even if you ain't all that good at interpreting it right."

Kallus snorts softly, the way his face warms probably telling Zeb more than he'd prefer, but that's only fair, he supposed, after his clumsy read of his lover. "I'll improve with practice."

Zeb's grin spreads, curving his mouth when he leans in and kisses Kallus, his fur warm when Kallus gets his hands in it, keeping him close and taking the kiss long. "'m _already_ gonna miss you, y'know," Zeb says against his mouth, staying close enough that Kallus can nuzzle against him. "You don't have to work this hard to remind me what I'm gonna be missing while you're gone."

And that's ... _strange,_ Kallus thinks, tipping his head forward to rub his cheek against the line of Zeb's jaw, his chin brushing the curve of Zeb's shoulder. The few lovers he took during his years enlisted never missed him — or gave any indication that they missed him, if they did — nor did he miss any of them, especially, when they were apart, save for craving the gratification of their company in his bed from time to time. That Zeb says it so openly, so freely and without guile, that he's perhaps come by to see him _just_ to say goodbye, is enough to make his chest _ache,_ warm and fragile as Zeb pulls him in close and nuzzles him back.

"Brought you something to take along for the trip, 'case you get bored," Zeb says when Kallus pulls away, the time he has before he's to launch with his new team growing short enough to have him uncomfortable lingering too long, despite the pleasure he finds, kissing and touching Zeb. "Give me one'a your hands."

Kallus does as he's told, frowning in confusion as Zeb pulls from the pocket of his jumpsuit a holodisk, which he keys for encryption then holds out flat in his palm for Kallus, who presses the pad of his thumb against the biometric reader chip, keeping it still until the disk beeps. He takes the disk when Zeb nods, pleased, and holds it out to him, giving its plain surface a suspicious look before lifting his gaze to Zeb.

"What is it?"

"Nothing special. Just something to help you pass the time, if you get a minute or two to yourself," Zeb says. "Just, ah. Don't open it when there's others around. 'S private. Just for you."

 _A love letter,_ Kallus thinks, the notion dismissing itself as fast as it appeared, ridiculous for a man his age, for a man Zeb's age.

Although —

"All right," he says. "Thank you."

"Yeah." Zeb nods to his bag, open still on his bunk. "Should probably let you get back to it."

"I'm nearly done, but I do leave shortly," Kallus says.

Zeb snorts, reaching out and dragging the curved back of his index claw down the line of Kallus' beard. "Pretty sure I'm the only sentient around who could make anything you do look like it's done _shortly,"_ he says. "Take care'a yourself, yeah? Want you to come back to us in one piece. _Alive."_

Kallus' heart does something dramatic in his chest that feels oddly like a pirouette, for all that _that's_ not anatomically possible. Or healthy. He dips his chin in a nod. "I'll do my best," he promises.

He replays their conversation in his mind as he boards his assigned vessel, sitting with his bag leaned against his calf, half-listening to the conversation going on across from him between two human junior officers, the pair going quiet and looking at him nervously when Zeb's joke about Kallus doing anything _shortly_ finally clicks in his brain and makes him chuckle. Wary of him, still, and that shouldn't bother him — and doesn't, he tells himself — but _is_ a reality all the same, one that keeps him quiet for the flight out, content to sit in silence and commit as much of the mission brief to memory as he can, visualizing their entry point and maneuvers in his mind's eye once he's read the materials thoroughly enough to be able to quote them from memory.

He performs his initial tasks to an acceptable standard and receives new orders that have him infiltrating an Imperial cell (which explains why Dodonna gave him his old uniform, he supposed as he pulls it on), which he completes successfully as well, and with pleasure, at that, picking apart the Empire from the inside always one of his favorite assignments. His days dull into relative monotony, from that point forward, filled with communication interception and disruption work, mostly, a small group of slicers put under his command and tasked with ruining as many Imperials' days as they possibly can, which they do, and do _well,_ with acceptable regularity.

It's good work, heavy taxing to Kallus' mind but not his body, and he finds himself missing his sparring sessions with Zeb more and more with each day that passes, something he's loath to name _homesickness_ gathering under his skin as the days pass into weeks, his mind too wrung out from the work he's done since first light for him to keep it from wandering into conjecture of what Zeb might be doing, if he's bored or if he's out with his team taking deadly risks and laughing about it. If he misses Kallus. If he's thinking about him.

He's been mulling thoughts along those lines for the better part of an afternoon two weeks into his assignment when he remembers the holodisk Zeb gave him, curiosity flavoring his musings as he chews his way through his rations pack supper that evening, bidding an early goodnight to his compatriots and returning to his bunk to dig through his bag until his fingertips find the smooth, curved edge of the disk, tucked in amongst his spare socks and underpants.

Zeb's words catch in his memory as he pulls it out — _don't open it when there's others around_ — stopping him just as his thumb hovers a hair's breadth from the biometric reader. He's locked the door to his sleeping quarters ever since he was promoted high enough up to have private accommodations as an Imperial, and he vaguely recalls doing so on his way in that evening, but a promise to Zeb is a promise he wants to keep, so he checks that the door is locked, only opening the contents of the disk after he's returned to his bed and sat down.

Zeb's image pops up immediately, the lasat stripped of his usual jumpsuit from the waist up, a towel draped across his lap, covering where Kallus is very suddenly and intimately curious to see if he's bared as well.

 _Hi there,_ Zeb says. _Hope you're doing all right. I, ah. Wanted to give you something to keep you company while you're out there causing trouble for the Empire. Not that you'll get bored or anything, doing that, but — they say variety's the drug'a choice, or something like that, so, uh. Yeah. Different kind'a entertainment for ya, I guess._

He shifts a little, casting a quick glance to to his left before returning his attention to the recorder. _Ain’t usually my thing, doing this in front'a a recorder where somebody who ain't you might see it,_ he continues, _but since it's gonna be a while until we see each other, and y'said you take care’a yourself on the regular, thought you might — thought maybe I could help you out, even if I'm not there to do it in person. So, uh. Here goes._

He looks to the side again, away from the recorder, then lifts the towel draped across his lap, revealing that he is, as Kallus had suspected, fully, _gloriously_ nude. Not yet emerged, but neither is he completely soft, either, the tip of his cock pressing at the mouth of his sheath, just starting to stretch it wide. Maybe even a little bit slick, the head catching the overhead light when he moves, casting one more nervous glance to the side before spreading his legs and dropping his hand to his lap, his fingertips moving in a slow, easy circle at the tip of his sheath. Teasing himself to hardness, the head slow to emerge, pushing up into the pressure of his fingers.

Kallus stares, transfixed, licking his lips as Zeb sighs and works himself up from his sheath, the sight of his big, beautiful hand drawing his cock up and out, the movement of it familiar and steady and different from the way Kallus has touched him when they've messed around together — and he wants, now, to try touching like Zeb touches himself, to feel with his own fingertips the soft warmth of Zeb's cockhead. To draw it to firmness with such a simple, bare touch. 

Zeb chuckles after a moment, his cock half-emerged and his expression near bashful as he looks at the recorder. _Feels weird doing it like this,_ he says without slowing his hand. _‘Specially since you’re here somewhere, on base. If you walk in on me doing this in front of a camera, I might just have to die of embarrassment. Just so you know._

He shakes his head, hard enough that his ears flap, and that’s — that’s _lovely,_ really, the way he smiles at the recorder, his ears drooping a little where he’s clearly uncomfortable, but not stopping, his cock emerging more slowly than it does when it’s Kallus he’s got between his legs, touching him, or even when he’s touching himself, putting on a show while Kallus undresses, but it _is_ still emerging, more than half its length pushed past the lips of his sheath now, enough that he’s stroking the nubs just under the head. Tipping his chin up as he leans back, the overhead light catching the paler fur of his chest and belly, softer and thicker than it is on his arms and legs and back, the motion of his hand as he touches himself brushing against the thick fur of his lower belly, and that — Kallus _loves_ that, loves brushing his nose against Zeb’s fur when he’s going down on him, loves the smell and feel of burying his face in Zeb's belly, and it’s strange for _that_ to be what pushes him from awkward voyeurism to the sudden carnal _thrill_ of watching Zeb masturbate in front of a recorder for him, but it is, and it does, his cock swelling to full hardness as he watches, the length of it pressed tight against his thigh, trapped by the fabric of his trousers.

Zeb’s quiet about his pleasure — always is when he and Kallus are together, a side-effect of the close quarters he’s kept with his family over the years, maybe from before as well; Kallus isn’t sure — but the recorder he’s used is high enough quality that Kallus can hear him breathing, his breath coming a little faster once he’s fully emerged and slick, stroking himself from head to sheath. Pushing up with his hips every couple of strokes, letting his cock push between his fingers instead of staying tight against his palm, and that’s — that’s a _damn_ good look, has Kallus fumbling with the belt and button and zip of his trousers, pushing them and his underwear down his thighs, far enough to pull his cock free and give it a few gentle strokes before spitting onto his fingers and taking himself fully in hand, keeping his fingers loose, dragging each up over the ridge and tip of his head as he watches. It’s not often he’s had the pleasure of feeling Zeb’s hands on him for more than just foreplay, the novelty of kriffing Zeb not yet worn off for either of them, but as he watches Zeb pull at himself, fucking his cock up between his own fingers — as his imagination whispers to him how it might feel if it were _his_ cock in Zeb’s grip, pushing up against the firm give of his fingertips, so much thicker than his own, and larger, gentle despite the strength of them, enough to crush him without thought —

Kallus pushes his other hand between his thighs, cupping his balls as he works himself, watching Zeb masturbate, moving a little faster now. His hand’s too big for Kallus to see his nubs, but he can imagine well enough that they’re beautifully firm, enough to catch at Zeb’s palm and fingers on every stroke. More subtle than he’d thought they’d be back when all he had to go on was lasat pornography and the crushing, humiliating guilt of being _so_ aroused by the thought of kriffing Garazeb Orrelios, the feel of them under his tongue still new enough to make him wild whenever he has the chance to go down on his lover, luxuriating in the feel of them bumping over his lips, stiffening for him when he pulls back and licks them, dragging his tongue up Zeb’s heavy, substantial weight. Just as maddeningly arousing as the catch of them between his fingers when he’s buried in the tight squeeze of Zeb’s body, kriffing him and stroking him. Feeling them go fully stiff right before Zeb comes for him, and that — 

In the holo, Zeb groans, and Kallus answers him with a sharp, short inhalation, his cock jerking in his grip, going slick. He drags his fingers up the underside, encouraging more slick to drip from the head, and smears it around, the feel of it incredible, better than his hand usually feels, better than it's _ever_ felt. Even better when Zeb drops his chin and looks _right_ at him — well, right at the recorder, Kallus supposes — his gaze so focused and intense that it isn’t much a stretch to imagine that he’s watching Kallus masturbate to him, enjoying the sight of it as much as Kallus is enjoying the sight of him, the full-body shudder that pulls through Zeb only a few strokes later dragging another quiet groan from his throat, and that only adds to the illusion, making Kallus’ blood _sing._

He has to stop stroking himself long enough to shove his trousers and pants down to his ankles, desperate to spread his legs wide, to put himself on full display for the recording of his lover, his cock making a mess of his inner thigh as he moves, eager to have his hand touching it again, jerking a little when he settles back down onto his bunk and rolls his palm over the head, smearing himself in his own slick. _Aching_ in his grip when he slides his other hand down, pressing his palm against his balls, his fingertips pressing against his perineum, the thought of fingering himself open while Zeb watches, of how Zeb might react to seeing him bring himself off without stroking his cock, _just_ from rubbing his own prostate — 

A shiver pulls through him, his cock leaking a mess over his fingers, easing his strokes, the beginning threads of orgasm just starting to tickle the along his nerves. Not quite close yet, but getting there without delay, and that's good, he thinks — Zeb’s getting closer as well, he’s fairly certain, his lover stroking his cock more slowly now, his grip on himself tighter, more focused. Pulling hard enough that the row of nubs Kallus _can_ see are sallowed from the pressure, his other hand gripping his upper leg, his claws digging into the meat of his thigh, and _that's_ not something Kallus would have thought might turn him on so hard his vision blurs for a second, but it does, his cock pulsing _hard_ under his palm at the thought of Zeb digging his claws into _him_ as he kriffs him, yanking his hips up just right to take him deep, to _use_ him, his mind fracturing with _wanting_ at the thought of how the thick, warm head of Zeb's cock might feel, stretching him wide, pressing hard against his prostate. How Zeb's nubs might feel catching against his rim on every push, growing harder and more insistent as Zeb nears his peak.

How it would feel to have Zeb come in him, the fantasy brought into shocking, unbearable reality at the sight of Zeb curling in on himself in the recording, pulling slow and hard on his cock, his mouth open around a strangled gasp all the warning he gives before he starts to come, pulling his cock up and back as he does so that Kallus gets to _see_ him come all over himself, his ejaculate striping the thick, soft fur of his chest and belly, his voice breaking over a strangled, barely restrained groan as he milks his orgasm up the length of his cock, dribbling messy over his fingers. Leaving him to slump back against the wall behind him with a tired, sated _karabast,_ his chest heaving, the light overhead throwing into sharp relief the full, substantial strength of him, wrung out and vulnerable and gorgeous.

Kallus stares at him, stroking himself harder, but he's not quite close enough yet, wasn't ready for it to be over, so he stills his hand on his cock and reaches forward and moves the recording back a full minute, drawing Zeb back up to attention, his back arched and hand working him again, ears turned down and teeth gritted, and _gods_ Kallus missed it the first time but he's biting his lower lip, the edge of one of his fangs catching the skin, and _that's_ something Kallus has fantasized about since Bahryn, wanting almost as desperately to feel Zeb's teeth in his neck as he wants the orgasm he can feel tightening at the base of his cock, the thought all but blinding him to the repeat of Zeb's performance, an electric, _vivid_ fantasy taking him over, images of straddling Zeb's lap, rubbing both of them together, trapped tight against one another in the tight clasp of his hands. Of Zeb's claws digging into his buttocks, Zeb's teeth sinking into his throat, biting down hard enough to mark him, to _hurt_ him, keeping him spread open and vulnerable and close, _using_ him to draw out the mounting thrill of coming on him, making a mess of him, begging Kallus to come on him as well, to cover him in —

He bites down on the inside of his cheek as his orgasm builds and crests, closing his eyes and tipping his head back as he peaks, gulping around the tight, swallowing pulses of bright, ephemeral pleasure rippling through him in time with the jerking cadence of his palm over the head of his cock as he comes, milking the semen from himself, but he's imagining Zeb's cock in his hand as he finishes, the sound of Zeb's voice breaking as he comes in the recording bringing the illusion suddenly and beautifully to life, a thin, quiet groan slipping from Kallus' throat as he shudders through the final tremors, leaving him dizzy and breathless and sweaty, struggling a little to focus when he opens his eyes once again.

 _Hope you, ah. Enjoyed that 's much as I did,_ Zeb's saying, sounding just as bleary and breathless as Kallus feels, taking in the sight of his lover, Zeb slumped back against the wall once again, his clean hand groping the mattress beside him, grabbing for the towel. He sits up with no small degree of difficulty and mops half-heartedly at the mess he's made of himself, his attention focused on his own body, now. _Gonna miss you while you're gone,_ he says, lifting his gaze and one of his ears, looking right into the recorder as he does. _So be careful, all right? Come back as soon as you can._

Then he reaches out towards Kallus and the recording stops, leaving Kallus alone in his bunk, his trousers shoved down around his ankles and a mess of semen cooling on his hand, his heart no longer pounding as it was before. Alone and just a little bit lonely, his back and neck and shoulders offering protest as he wrangles his boots free of his trousers, using his underwear to clean up what he can from his hand and belly and cock and thighs. Too tired and sated and worn to bother with a shower, the thrumming afterglow under his skin warming him as he lies down on his bunk and replays Zeb's words in his mind, his heart full from them, warm in his chest.

He should have recorded himself enjoying Zeb's gift, he thinks as he drifts into a pleasant half-sleep, so that he'd have something to offer Zeb in return when they're back together again. Maybe offer the touch of his own hands while Zeb watches his recording, the quiet taboo of the thought making his cock twitch and lengthen against his thigh, just a little, his face warming in the private dark of his bunk as he imagines proposing such a thing, imagines Zeb growling and kissing him in answer. Maybe picking him up like he weighs nothing and carrying him to his bunk, staying still for Kallus to strip him nude and get him hard, scolding him gently when Kallus tries to use his mouth instead of his hands, Zeb's mouth quirked in that silly, gorgeous smirk of his, only dropping it when he's distracted with kissing —

 _Tomorrow,_ Kallus promises himself, idly palming his cock under the blanket. _I'll see to it tomorrow that Garazeb has a good gift when I return, in thanks for his gift to me._

_Author's ruminations_  
"I'm just gonna write out like 2k of smut real quick" they told themself and then it was over 4k and that was a lie ...

I'm so in love with getting to write a pair of actual goddamn _adults_ for once in fanfiction, two who'd be experienced and comfortable enough to do stuff like make naughty videos for each other and find masturbation sexy, not embarrassing. It's so refreshing! Why didn't I find this pairing sooner. <3

This is the first of a set of 30 porn prompts I've carried around since my LiveJournal days (hi yeah I'm that old), and I damn well intend to do all 30. This one fits the prompt "Audience," #2 in the prompt list. More to come soon, I hope.

(Though likely not a direct sequel to this: my bet is that Kallus couldn't bear to record over Zeb's holo, so he didn't follow through with recording himself. I'm sure he found another way to show Zeb his gratitude, though, so. :3)


End file.
